the ordeal

Sometimes it's important to tell your story. I've found that listening to other women's experiences of birth has been both cathartic and restorative. The aim of this account is probably the former (at this point in time), with hopefully the latter's benefits.
At the outset, I'd also advise people who haven't given birth, not to read the account. I'm almost certain that what I've been through is NOT the run-of-the-mill birth experience, and I don't want to freak you out – God knows how hard I found it the first time 'round with Zack and people were warning me of 5 days of labour and all the associated horrors. You don't need to know until you've been through your own experience. Then it's just good for comparisons!

How it all started :
I've been writing about this low lying placenta issue for some time now, so you probably have an idea of what's entailed. So I'd been comforting myself with the thought that I hadn't had any bleeding and this was a GOOD sign. As it turned out, on Wednesday morning, I got out of bed, went to the loo, and discovered that I'd started bleeding. Keith drove me through to the hospital - The Royal London, (yes, the one I was afraid of going to) - and we were admitted to the labour ward. We were seen by an obstetrician who advised me to stay on for 24 hours of observation as she said small bleeds like this one, were often followed by more severe bleeding. As things turned out, she was right. This first bleed - the "herald bleed" - was the beginning of my placenta and uterus parting company. I spent the rest of Wednesday flat on my back in the ante-natal ward bed with an IV in my arm, just in case. Our first night was blissfully quiet, and I slept better than I had in weeks.

Thursday, more bleeding :
On Thursday morning, feeling decidedly grubby and desperately in need of some shampoo, I psyched myself up for a shower. I got myself into the communal bathroom, put out all the toiletries and clean clothes, and then there was a huge gush of blood. The scary thing was that I couldn't stop it, just like when your waters break, it just came rushing out, and there was no accompanying pain. After cleaning myself up, I went in search of a midwife and politely said that I'd had a 'big bleed'. Looking back, this is laughable - how terribly polite and British of me ! I should've run out into the hallway, starkers, screaming "I'm bleeding, I'm bleeding" (sob, sob). I always go dead calm in a crisis... not always the best reaction.
After that it was more observation back in the labour ward, and listening to baby's heartbeat on the CTG. I certainly got my fill of CTG's on this hospital stay – regular as clockwork ! Baby continued on his steady path, so no concerns there, and my uterus wasn't showing any regular contractions so we weren't in early labour. This meant I was back to the ante-natal ward for observation.
Thursday night was crazy – there were 18 women labouring through the night, and a woman opposite me who had the lowest pain threshold (screaming for Allah, dilated 1cm and wouldn't take any pain relief) which wasn't helped by her mother and mother-in-law being at the bedside, or the fact that she would not go for a walk to help things along. Sheesh!

Friday and all's well :
Friday morning I befriended a fellow patient, a New Yorker, who'd been admitted at about 3am. She was just hilarious, and kept us amused recounting tales of the previous night and her own pregnancy experiences - it did alot to buoy my spirits. Friday passed quietly, and Keith and Zack visited in the evening (Zack with a huge shiner from falling off his scooter). One of the midwives took the time to come and talk to me about placenta praevia, and warned me against any thoughts of going home. I had been longing to get a "day pass" on Sunday so that we could go to Alessio's Christening in Surbiton - Keith and I are God-parents. But it wasn't to be.
As she explained, the situation I was in, was very high risk: I could begin to hemorrhage at any moment. I could not afford to be away from a delivery suite or operating theatre, that's how serious it was. They had already matched 4 units of blood for me, should the need arise. She really put the wind up me with this frank discussion and I decided that it was best to let the medical profession take over. Earlier in the day, the consultant had booked me in for a Caesarean Section for the following Thursday, as baby would've been 38 weeks then.

Saturday :
Saturday was also quiet, with friends popping in for a visit in the afternoon. This was the first time I'd actually sat up (in a chair) in 3 days, and I sat for more than 2 hours chatting to them. They left in the late afternoon, and at about 6:30pm the NY mate was packing up and about to be discharged - I stood up to say goodbye. Suddenly it was all systems go - my body started pouring blood onto the floor. I called for a midwife, carefully took off my slippers and gown, grabbed my cellphone, and was ordered into a wheelchair. As they pushed me through to the labour ward, I rang Keith, who'd only recently gone home to give Zack dinner, and said that I was gushing blood and was almost certainly going into theatre.
He dropped Zack off with Greg & Charlie, and rushed over.

The big event:
Again, things happen in slow motion in your memory, and I remember having to get onto a bed in the labour ward, and there just being blood, blood, blood. I couldn't stop it, and it didn't hurt at all. I was calm. People were running and shouting, and I was following instructions. I was pushed through into theatre, and lifted onto a narrow gurney (maybe it was the operating table). People were monitoring the baby's heartbeat, and my arms were out on supports. Keith turned up at this point, and I was so relieved to see him. The anesthetist was trying to find another vein in my arm, but was so stressed out. He tried twice in my left wrist and failed, and then twice in the right wrist. Thankfully that fourth attempt succeeded, but by then I was ready to shout at him to calm down. I was dead calm thinking "I wonder what it feels like to bleed out", "I wonder what'll happen if I die now?", "What about Keith?", "What about Zack?". Keith was looking quite pale and went to sit down in a corner. I could feel the blood just pouring out, more and more. Midwives were wiping it up. I asked who'd be doing the cutting and the stitching and a woman came forward – I explained to her that I keloid really badly and would appreciate it if she could sew me back up nicely. She said that I wasn't to worry, that she'd take special care in doing so. That's what I needed to hear - someone who was calm and unmoved by the panic going on around me.
The anesthetist asked me to roll onto my side and and curl up as much as I could, so that he could try and do the spinal block (local anesthetic for C-Section). This is pretty hard when you're so far gone (37 weeks pregnant), and I found that the more I tried to curl up on the narrow table, the worse the bleeding got - I could literally feel it squelching out with every movement I made. Keith said it was pouring onto the floor, so I guess it had got beyond bad. They decided the hemorrhaging was severe and the only path was a general anesthetic. And so it was that I put the oxygen mask on, said goodbye to Keith, and started counting while I felt them swab my abdomen with iodine and then the coolness of it being poured over me. And then I slept, a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

(more to come)